Ashes of the Alabriss

     She was still uncertain as to what to make of Hanso. He had extended a lifeline to her, but why? What motivated a man who carried himself with such bombastic arrogance?

     She sat on the grass, massaging her legs with her back leaning against the fence. Taffy hung close to her, seemingly curious about his new surroundings but too exhausted to make the most of the wide open spaces. She turned her head to watch the Alabrisses gallop across the pasture, waiting to see a flash of electric blue break from the herd and come bounding towards her. Somehow, that impossible fantasy made more sense than the reality she’d found herself in.

     Emptiness filled her chest, swelling up through her throat and stinging her eyes until hot tears rolled down her cheeks. As she raised her hand to wipe at her face, movement at the edge of the property drew her eye.

     Paralyzing panic gripped her for a beat, releasing upon her recognition of Hanso’s garish outfit and perfectly coiffed midnight blue hair.

     She scrambled to her feet, clinging pathetically to the fence for support as her legs trembled and burned in response to the sudden exertion.

     He was close enough for her to make out his expression now, and the flicker of hope she’d been clinging to was doused under the icy chill of his piercing glare.

     “I happened upon something very interesting while I was down in the city.” The spite in his tone cut straight through her. He seemed like an entirely different person compared to the carefree Ixi she’d woken up to that morning. “Look familiar?”

     She flinched as he extended his arm towards her, holding up a piece of paper.

     WANTED

     She swallowed hard, a surge of surreal and crushing anxiety crashing over her as her gaze travelled down to the picture. It was an uncanny and twisted representation of her; the drawing’s eyes too close-set and angular, muzzle too straight and pinched. The depiction of her hair, however, she instantly recognized.

     Female red Kougra, 18-30 years old

     Medium/athletic build (approx. 160cm)

     Straight medium-length hair

     Light eye colour

     Wanted for attempted Alabriss theft and assault of a guard. Last seen in the Baazar District.

     If you have any information concerning this Neopet, please contact your local guard station.

     She could see two versions of herself in her mind’s eye; one was doubled over in a fit of manic laughter and the other was collapsing in on herself like a dying star.

     Then there was the terribly sinister looking Kougra staring back at her from the poster.

     If Brynn were a cheekier pet- more like Hanso, perhaps- she might have pointed out the obvious discrepancies in the description and suggested that it could be about any Kougra- specifically a red one, which she was not. She half-wished she could convince herself that it was meant to be someone else.

     “You lied to me,” Hanso said flatly. “And to think I was prepared to trust you.”

     Brynn felt as though all the air had left her lungs. “Yes,” she said weakly. “I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth. It’s- I’m sorry, it’s not what you think.”

     Hanso let out a humourless snort. “I don’t think anything, I know you’re a liar and probably a thief to boot.”

     “I didn’t steal anything!” she blurted defensively, reeling with a turbulent combination of shame and indignation. “I’m not an Alabriss thief! He was mine, he was my best friend and he was taken from me. I had to protect him!”

     Taffy let out an angry bleat in response to her obvious distress, moving in front of her and stomping his hoof threateningly at Hanso.

     “No, back,” she commanded inarticulately, her mind frazzled and scattered but still acutely aware that nothing good would come of Taffy attacking Hanso. “Taffy, back!” she demanded more urgently, her voice sharp and stern after being ignored the first time. The Naalala flinched and anxiously slunk into position behind her.

     Hanso watched the exchange with a sour yet otherwise unreadable expression, his amber eyes now unnervingly dark.

      “Why should I believe you? You know, I did think it was strange that you showed up out of nowhere, suspiciously eager to help, but it all makes sense if you were just trying to case the joint.”

     “What?” Her tail flicked in annoyance, his disparaging insinuation pulling frustration to the forefront of her emotional maelstrom. “I am not a criminal!”

     “Oh, really?” He held the poster up next to her face, his contemptuous expression taking on a hint of insufferable smugness as he made a performative show of looking between her and the picture.

     “It doesn’t even look like me!” she snapped, irritably swatting the paper away. Hanso’s scowl deepened.

     “So it’s not you, then?”

     “It is me.”

     “I can’t figure out if you’re Neopia’s worst liar or if you’re just completely out of your mind.”

     “If you would just listen to me- I’m not lying and I’m not a criminal.”

     The mocking look of disbelief he gave her made her blood boil with shame and anger.

     “I’m probably going to regret this,” he said. “But enlighten me, then. This should at least be entertaining.”

     Brynn forced herself to look him directly in the eye, stubbornly rising to his implied challenge. “Yesterday- at least I think it was yesterday, I’m not certain how long I was asleep- I came home to find my Alabriss, Storm, missing.” She proceeded to describe the subsequent series of events that had led her to the barn. “So I suppose I did attack a guard and attempt to steal a petpet, but I was only trying to protect my friend. What would you have done if someone had taken Grail from you?”

     Hanso frowned, seeming to genuinely ponder the question. “I’m not sure, but it would have been a far more graceful operation than your mess.”

     Brynn raised her eyebrows, letting out an indignant gasp.

     “I mean, what exactly was the plan here?” he continued, seeming to enjoy himself a little too much for her liking. “What were you going to do with him? Where would you have gone?”

     “I don’t know, I would have figured something out! It’s not as though I had time to plan that far ahead.” She put her hands on her hips. “At least I tried. From where I’m standing, you seem like the suspicious one; critiquing Alabriss heists like you’re an expert on the subject.” She was livid that he’d made light of Storm’s plight, his inappropriate teasing making her bold.

     “Do you always bite the hand that feeds you?” Hanso asked.

     “You didn’t feed me,” said Brynn.

     Hanso then let out a brusque laugh, shattering the volatile atmosphere. “We could still change that.”

     Brynn was abruptly put off by his sudden change in demeanour. “What do you mean?” she asked incredulously.

     “Let’s take this inside, I’m not exactly keen to be spotted liaising with a know criminal.”

     She sputtered in protest, but no actual words came out.

     There was that shameless smirk again. Somehow she’s expected it to appear far more contemptuous than it was.

     “Do you need help?” he asked, extending an arm towards her.

     Brynn instinctively flinched away. “Don’t touch me!” she snapped, causing Taffy to let out another distressed bleat. She gave his head an absentminded stroke to reassure him, instantly regretting the outburst.

     “Woah, okay.” Hanso raised his eyebrows before turning away to begin walking, his strides loose and confident.

     Brynn followed a few paces behind; one foot in front of the other, pushing forward a step at a time.

     You’re fine, you can walk it off.

      “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, glancing back at her and Taffy. “Or him, for that matter. I usually have a way with petpets, so I can only assume he’s just intimidated to be in the presence of a great artist.”

     Brynn managed a small smile, exhausted but relieved they were both still safe for the moment. She didn’t exactly feel like prying into how he defined the title of artist, but it suited his smarmy and eccentric personality nonetheless. “Um, thank you,” she said awkwardly. “And don’t worry about Taffy, he doesn’t like most neopets. I actually had to modify my training when I first found him because he wouldn’t let me touch him.”

     In front of her, Hanso’s shoulder shook with a silent chuckle. “Sounds like he takes after you.”

     “Hey!”

     *-*-*

     “I’ve never been in a house like this.”

     Brynn had expected Hanso’s home to be tacky; the type of place that would be decorated with nouveau-riche status symbols and overly elaborate adornments that existed less as an expression of personal style and more as a means of creating a prestigious impression.

     The scene that greeted her in reality was eclectic and cluttered, yet clean and cohesive; a whimsical amalgamation of decorative trinkets that came together like a personal mosaic. Slivers of sunlight caught on various pieces of coloured glass and crystal, creating a scattered rainbow of jewel tones across the walls and floor. She wondered how many of the paintings and baubles, if any, were Hanso’s art.

     “When you’re finished gawking, feel free to take a seat.”

     Brynn felt heat rising in her face as she turned towards Hanso, who was laying a blanket across a worn sofa.

     “Thanks,” she muttered, tensing in humiliation at the reminder of how dirty she still was. Resisting the urge to flop down and sink into the cushions, she forced her trembling legs to slowly lower her into a proper sitting position. “Is Taffy allowed…?” she asked softly, indicating to the spot beside her as she crossed her ankles.

     “Uh, sure.”

     Comfort came to her in the form of brief, weightless relief as she patted the space beside her in invitation to the only friend or family she truly felt she had left. He slumped forward hesitantly, either anxious or not having understood the command. “Come,” she reiterated, patting the spot again. This time he hurried towards her, jumping up a little frantically and immediately curling up with his head on her lap.

     “So-“ Hanso cut in, casually strolling into the other room- the kitchen, she assumed- and reappearing an instant later with a bottle of nectar in hand. “Thristy?” He gave it a tantalizing shake, causing the contents to slosh against the tinted glass.

     “No thank you,” she declined, automatically defaulting to polite refusal. “I, um- I admit I had another drink from the hose.”

     “Suit yourself.” He’d produced a goblet from somewhere and leaned against the doorframe, exuding casual confidence as he poured the nectar with a degree of precision that seemed a ridiculous juxtaposition to his loose posture. “You at least know how to eat like a civilized person, I hope?” He paused to take a sip of his drink. “You know, with plates and utensils?”

     “I am civilized!” Brynn barked defensively, causing Taffy to flinch.

     “Civilized pets don’t shout,” he teased in a sing-song voice, grinning at her from behind his glass.

     Brynn huffed, overwhelming aggravation simmering just beneath her skin. She tried to focus on the feeling of Taffy’s fur beneath her hand. The look he’d given her was playful and inviting, but experience told her not to presume she was in on the joke- at least not on the same side of it that he was.

     “I don’t mind if you’re not,” Hanso said.

     Brynn’s eyes slowly lifted to find him staring at her with the forlorn expression of a kicked Altachuck, apparently disappointed that his ribbing hadn’t elicited its intended reaction.

     “How about I just make a nice meal that doesn’t require any utensils?” he suggested instead.

     The idea of him actually cooking something for her made her feel even more vulnerable, pathetic, and completely out of her depth. “You don’t need to make anything for me!” she insisted. “I’d be fine with just a piece of bread or something.”

     “Brynn, you insult me. What sort of host do you think I am?” he drawled, swirling the liquild in his goblet.

     Her stomach did a flip at the sound of her name coming out of his mouth. This was the second time he’d said it but she was still surprised he’d even remembered.

     “Ugh, I didn’t mean it like that,” she sighed. “I just didn’t expect you to go out of your way for me. Whatever you want to make is fine, I’m not picky.” It was true, at least, in the sense that mattered; that she’d successfully learned to palette unpalatable foods, and accepted forcing ‘acquired tastes’ as a normal part of life and social etiquette.

          “Okay, a surprise it is then,” he agreed with a hint of exasperation, muttering to himself as he strolled back into the kitchen: “A piece of bread, honestly…”

     *-*-*

     The gnawing void in Brynn’s stomach had become exponentially more difficult to ignore from the moment the buttery sweet aroma of Hanso’s cooking had reached her nose. She sat impatiently, rubbing the velvety tips of Taffy’s ears and battling her restless compulsion to pace around the room.

     When Hanso reappeared, somehow balancing two plates on one arm with a drink in each hand, the transient shadow of a primal instinct to pounce on him flashed in the back of her mind.

     “I figured this was like bread, but better,” he announced, sliding a stack of pancakes in front of her. She stared at the tower like it was an architectural marvel, a drizzle of liquid gold honey dripping down the sides.

     “You’d better not be about to tell me you hate pancakes.” The sound of Hanso's voice abruptly snapped her attention back to her present situation.

     “No! They look incredible, thank you.”

     She’d been fully anticipating a self-congratulatory response, but the slow smile spreading across his face was far more humble and subdued; practically melting into the compliment.

     He also placed a tall glass next to her plate, filled with clinking ice cubes and glinting amber liquid.

     “Sun Tea, if you want it. Since you turned your nose up at nectar.”

     Sighing, he sank down on the other side of the couch and took a sip from his goblet. The movement roused Taffy, who made a low growling noise in response to Hanso’s proximity.

     “Leave it,” Brynn warned. When Taffy ignored her and persisted, she gave him a light flick on the nose to redirect his attention. “Hey.” He stopped making the noise but continued to glare at Hanso, who was watching the exchange with a blank expression.

     Brynn turned back to the plate in front of her. “I- you made all of this yourself?” She was struggling to wrap her head around his hospitality and gauge how rational it was to consider that he might have poisoned at least the drink, weighing the pros and cons of taking a sip just to be polite.

     “You know, it’s better if you eat while it’s still hot. Look-“ He grabbed her drink, knocking back a sizable gulp. “See? No poison, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

     Brynn sputtered in wide-eyed disbelief. “I wasn’t- how did you-?”

     Hanso reclined against the sofa, facing her with one arm resting lazily over the back. "You're really not that difficult to read,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Now if you're not going to eat your pancakes, I'd be happy to test them for poison as well."

      Brynn's stomach cramped at the prospect of having the food taken from her now. Hungry and irritable, she reactively pulled the plate out of his reach and stabbed the stack with her fork, picking up the first cake and taking a very large and unladylike bite.

     It tasted as delicious as it looked and smelled, melting in her mouth. In her ravenous hunger, she felt she didn't have the wherewithal to savour it, yet somehow she appreciated it all the more.

     When she looked at Hanso again, he was watching her with rapt amusement.

     "Very civilized."

     Her face burned. "Oh, shut up."

     Her mother's voice echoed in her head:

     "Honestly, Brynneth. You'd think we’d raised you in a barn."

     She reeled herself in, straightening her posture and taking smaller bites.

     "Hey, I'm glad you like them."

     "They are very good, thank you." His kindness should have been a comfort, but instead it made her uncomfortable; shy and confused. "I just don't understand, I was under the impression that you despised me."

     Something akin to offense flashed across Hanso's face, informing her that she'd said the wrong thing. Again.

     "Not that I don't appreciate it!" she added quickly. "I'd do, very much so."

     Hanso exhaled through his nose in what she read as further exasperation, leaning back and gazing up at the ceiling as he took another sip from his goblet.

     "Whatever gave you that impression, I don't hate you." There was a tired huskiness to his voice, like he was too fed up with her to continue whatever one-sided game he'd been trying to engage her in.

     Brynn nodded solemnly, staring blankly down at her plate in paralyzing uncertainty as to what she should say or feel.

     "I was a thief once," he continued, drawing her full attention. "I tried to steal from the woman who lived here, actually. She could have handed me over for the guards to deal with, but she took me in and cared for me. So… I guess I want to give you a chance. I know it's what my mother would have wanted as well."

     For the first time, she caught a glimpse of him through an unfiltered lens; sending her mentally flipping through every pervious interaction like pages of a black and white picture book that she was seeing for the first time in colour. His smart-alecky quips no longer felt quite so condescending, his charming smile now tinged with a hint of loneliness.

     "Oh," she said dumbly. "I'm so sorry."

      "It's all right. I got my expert culinary skills from her, so you can thank us both for this."

     "They really are amazing," she said softly, sincerely. "It's been a long time since I've had anything like this."

     "Anything like pancakes?"

      His tone was still playful, but far lighter than it had been; gentle, inviting.

     Brynn exhaled a soft chuckle. "I don't cook much... I never found it to be worth the time when I could be just as satisfied eating a fig sandwich out in the yard with Storm and Taffy."

      Hanso took another bite of his food, nodding slowly. "I suppose I can understand that."

     "About Storm..." she pushed a piece of pancake around the plate with her fork, anxiety eclipsing her appetite. Now that they were finally getting along she felt guilty and conflicted about what she still needed to do. "I think I-"

      "No, no, no," he interrupted, waving his hand.

     "No?"

      "Yeah, no. If you're about to tell me what I think you're about to tell me, don't. You're not doing me any favours by implicating me in some insane scheme." He put his hands up. "I want no part in this, but if I can offer you one piece of advice; keep in mind that emotion makes you sloppy. If you want to think like a successful thief, you need to put your feelings aside and analyze the situation objectively.”

     The emptiness inside her was stirring; surging through her like she was in a perpetual freefall. "I just want to know he's safe."

      Hanso frowned sympathetically."I know. And unless you’re a master of deceit, I also know you’re no thief."

     *-*-*

     Hanso found himself enjoying Brynn's companionship. Her fiery light chased away the shadows of emptiness that had plagued the house for the past two years. Once she’d settled down a bit, she was as polite and considerate as she was grouchy and opinionated; traits he's latently realized were all tied together with a thread of insecurity.

     Taffy still hated him, and Brynn’s reactions to his defensive behaviour only seemed to make it worse. While she clearly shared a deep bond with the Naalala and was acting in good faith, there would eventually need to be a conversation about her training methodology if she was actually going to work on the property. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

      On the morning of the first day, he'd suggested helping her change her hair so she didn't look so much like that ghastly portrait. After a much back and forth- during which she’d made it painfully clear that she did not respect his artistic vision and would not let him anywhere near her with a pair of scissors- he'd settled on simply braiding a side-part diagonally across her forehead to create the illusion of bangs. Later, he’d found her unravelling his work with methodical precision, intensely focused on memorizing how the strands crossed over each other.

     On the second day, Brynn had developed a much keener interest in his art. He’d of course been happy to show her his most recent paintings; idyllic scenes depicting the bonds between Allabrisses and neopets. Rather than traditional renditions of battles and races and glory, he preferred to portray the type of adventure that laid in a sense of wonder and hope and possibility. Truly glorious heroes had kind eyes and gentle poise. His art wasn’t meant to make people sad, but it seemed to make Brynn sad despite her proclamation that it was beautiful. He’d assured her that Storm was going to be okay, but they both knew it was a hollow promise.

     On the third day he'd barely woken up when a very-awake Brynn presented him with an itemized chart, apparently having risen in the wee hours of the morning to perform and record health checks on every single Alabriss. She then proceeded to tout the virtues of establishing a baseline for each Petpet, which he was too tired and bewildered to fully absorb.

     On the fourth day she'd begun to complain that she felt spoilt and insisted he let her cook. Hanso understood her point of view despite not relating to it, so he'd given her free range of the kitchen and generously offered his assistance. “Stop micromanaging me”, she'd said. “I can do it myself”, she'd said. Then she'd proceeded to set the stovetop on fire- and thus ended Brynn's culinary adventures. (She did, however, sheepishly offer to make fig sandwiches after apologizing profusely.)

     On the fifth day, there was a visitor.

     Hanso immediately recognized the rapt knock at the door and tensed.

     Brynn had frozen in place, her eyes locked onto his with silent, panicked questioning. She was wearing one of his old tunics with her own belt cinched around the waist.

     "It's fine," he assured her. "Nobody's here for you, it's-"

      The knock came again; sharp, impatient.

     "Rude,” he muttered.

          Before he could offer Brynn any actual explanation, the door swung open on its own, revealing an annoyed-looking speckled Xweetok draped in flowing purple silks.

     "Xandra," he greeted dryly. "Let yourself in, why don't you."

     Her eyes rolled behind her thick spectacles. "Hanso. You look..." Her scrutinizing gaze flicked pointedly up and down his body. "Healthy."

      Xandra had never been the most pleasant neopet; her judgemental and calculating demeanour making her at times difficult to read even after years of growing up alongside her.

     "Gee, thanks." Knowing Xandra, it could very well have been her idea of a compliment. It probably was, actually, considering how many times she’d told him he should ‘be healthier’- whatever that meant.

     "And who is this?" Xandra's attention had drifted past Hanso and settled on Brynn.

     "My name is Brynn," the Kougra greeted before Hanso could interject, her voice steady and confident. Seeing how rigid and forced her posture was now made him realize just how much she'd actually loosened up around him over the past few days.

     "Brynn, this is Xandra. She's sort of like a sister to me. Our mothers were friends, so we grew up together."

      "It's nice to meet you," Brynn greeted, sunny and polite.

     Xandra let out a thoughtful hum in response. "What is it you're doing here, Brynn? How do you know Hanso?"

     Brynn balked, obviously taken aback by Xandra's bluntness and scrambling for an answer.

     "She's a trainer," Hanso said, feeling it was his cue to take back the reins. "I hired her to help with the Alabrisses." A good lie was simple and contained elements of the truth.

     Xandra scoffed incredulously. "Losing your touch, are you? You've never hired trainers before."

     "I have my reasons!" Hanso protested, scowling. "But what I'd really like to know is your reason for barging into my home uninvited."

      Xandra crossed her arms. "Perhaps I just wanted to check in on my dear brother." She glanced at Brynn. "And make sure he's not doing anything stupid."

      Hanso loved his sister, he respected his sister, but sometimes she was a bit much even for him. "I'm touched, but could we please do this some other time? Whatever you’re actually here for, just tell me."

     "I could go," Brynn offered, glancing towards the door. Xandra tended to have that effect on people.

     In some ways she and Brynn were alike; both smart and assertive women, prickly and passionate. That was where their similarities ended, however. If Brynn was fire, Xandra was ice.

     "That's not necessary," Xandra said, casually strolling past them to sit herself down in an armchair across from the sofa.

     Hanso sighed, giving Brynn a shrug and nodding towards the couch before sitting down on it himself. She followed a moment later but only perched on the armrest; more than simply leaning against it, but not quite sitting either- as if she didn't want to commit her full presence to the space.

     "It's nice to meet another woman in the Alabriss industry." Xandra was speaking directly to Brynn now, and he had the dubious honour of being the only person in the room who could see the impending ideological clash lurking just beneath the surface of a seemingly innocent conversation. "Hanso is so arrogant about his own abilities; I'm surprised he sought the advice of someone else."

      "Xandra is a veterinarian," Hanso explained."And one of the last people who should be throwing around accusations of arrogance."

     Xandra’s brow furrowed. "Do you really think my pride unwarranted? That's just it, isn't it? You can be as arrogant as you want and still be perceived as charming."

      "Can we not do this right now?" Hanso sighed. It wasn't his fault he was gifted with good looks and charisma. "I mean, maybe if you lightened up a bit- hey!"

     He narrowly dodged the pillow she whipped directly at his face, feeling it graze the top of his head before hitting the glass cabinet behind him with a precarious rattle that sent Taffy scurrying out from underneath it.

     Oh, he'd wondered where he'd been hiding.

     "Watch it!" he warned. "You’re going to break something. Or worse, ruin my hair."

      "Good. Maybe you should spend less time looking in the mirror and more time looking at the world."

     "Wow, that's really deep. Maybe you should have pursued a career in philosophy."

     "I think I get it, actually," Brynn said softly beside him, causing a satisfied smirk to spread across Xandra's face.

     "Of course you do,” she said.

     "Brynn!" Hanso gasped in feigned indignation. "You're supposed to be on my side!"

     "Don't worry about him," Xandra dismissed. "He's just a coddled idiot who loves the attention."

     This bickering had been going on since they were children. He’d developed a relatively thick skin when it came to her bluntness, but every now and then she'd strike just a bit too hard, leaving him stung. "Okay, enough," he cautioned through gritted teeth.

      Xandra didn't apologize, she never did. It wasn't in her nature, he supposed. She showed repentance by simply dropping the topic and moving on; an unspoken acknowledgment that she'd crossed a line.

     Except it wasn't Xanda who changed the topic this time, it was Brynn.

     "Xandra?" Her voice was far more placid than the one Hanso had become accustomed to. "This might be an odd question... but I don't suppose you've ever treated an electric Alabriss with an old shoulder injury?"

     Hanso had to restrain himself from groaning and smacking his forehead.

     "I have, actually," Xandra replied matter-of-factly. "At the Violet Stables- southern Arena District. Not in with the chariot Alabrisses, of course. He was just being boarded there; a recent auction purchase I did a health check on."

     "Oh, interesting. Thank you," said Brynn very conspicuously, clearly not having thought through an appropriate response.

     "It's such awful business, though, isn't it?" Xandra continued. Hanso set his jaw and fixed her with her a very obvious warning scowl, but she kept going. "The things I've seen in my line of work... what those poor petpets are subjected to."

     "The chariot races, you mean? Surely that's the exception, not the rule," Brynn pressed, and Hanso wished he could sink into the cushions and disappear. "Almost everyone I've known has treated their Alabrisses like family- they are family."

     Xandra frowned. "I honestly didn't expect you to quite be this naive. If your relationship with someone were contingent on your ability to win them glory and profit, would you really call them family?"

     "There's more to it than that!" Brynn had risen to her feet, no longer leaning against the side of the couch. "The racing season funds all sorts of community and education programs."

     "The entire system is corrupt. Those things may be all well and good but if you need them to justify a tradition’s existence, perhaps it’s time to begin questioning that tradition. How many Alabrisses need to get hurt for you to see it’s more a product of willful ignorance than innocent accident? Perhaps it's easy to turn a blind eye when you're not the one who has to deal with it every time one goes down and can't get back up.”

     “Neopets get hurt in the races too,” protested Brynn. “It’s a partnership, it’s about trust.”

     Xandra let out a cold, humourless laugh. “You really think that’s an equal partnership? Every time I watch some idiot driver get thrown from their chariot or dragged around the track, all I see is justice.”

     "Would either of you ladies care for a drink?" asked Hanso.

     "That's terrible!" Brynn gasped, both women ignoring him.

     "Yes, very," Xandra sneered. "You know what else is terrible? That a fugitive is taking advantage of my poor foolish brother."

     Hanso's heart sank. Of course Xandra had figured it out.

     "You don't know anything about me," Brynn hissed.

     "I know everything I need to know about you. I can tell exactly what type of trainer you are, and Hanso was never going to let you practice your outdated pseudoscience here."

     Brynn turned to him, her big blue eyes wounded and pleading. She was reaching out to him in trust, and after spending the past several days watching her slowly open up, he was about to break her in her most vulnerable moment. "Brynn... I was going to talk to you about it."

     "So you... you agree with her?" she made an odd choking noise, taking a step back. It was far from the first time Hanso had made a woman angry, but never had he seen someone look at him with such horror and betrayal.

     "Not about you, she’s wrong about you."

      "If you think I'm a monster, at least have the courage to say it! If I were you, I would never let anyone I thought so vile anywhere near my petpets! Because it’s my duty to protect them, and I’m not a coward."

     “Hey-!”

     The door slammed. He stood up to call after her but she was gone, leaving only the fading jingle of clinking glass and rattling picture frames in her wake.

     "Do call the guards when she comes back. At least that will be one of them taken care of."

      The sound of Xandra's voice made Hanso's temper flare.

     "What is wrong with you?" he growled.

     "Don't be upset that your exotic new petpet ran off. We both know you weren't planning on keeping her."

     "Sometimes I forget how cruel you can be. You know, for a moment there I thought maybe you two could have been friends."

     Xandra let out an ugly guffaw. "I would never be friends with someone like her. There's no excuse for what she does. I wasn't raised like that, Hanso. Neither were you."

     "I was raised to be kind. Do not bring my mother into this- you know very well it could have been different for me."

      She rolled her eyes. "There's nothing kind about being complacent."

     Hanso boiled over, feeling sick with the rolling weight of bitter infuriation. "We're done here. It's time for you to leave."

     "I can't imagine what you see in her."

     "I mean it, Xandra! Get out!"

     "Fine, we can talk when you're finally thinking clearly." And with that, she was gone too.

     Things would smooth over with her eventually- they always did- but for now he was truly alone; the bonds holding him together strained and frayed. He had the innate compulsion to go out, to take his mind off of it, to try his best to enjoy life, but he didn't want to leave in case Brynn came back. So he stayed, settling onto the couch with a glass of nectar and the rhythmic ticking of the clock casting a spotlight on the empty silence. Just as it had on the morning his mother had left.

     *-*-*

     What did Hanso know anyway?

     Brynn fumed as she trudged ungracefully down the dirt road that led down to the city, practically stomping. It was hardly a seemly way to present herself but she was too angry to care.

     It wasn't all about glory; it was about family values and support. Her happiest childhood memories were shaped by chariot driving. Looking after Storm had been a family affair; she would visit him at the stable as often as she could, and back then her parents had been proud of her responsibility. It was a mutual source of light, shining on all of them. Nothing about it was cruel or brutal.

     It was easy for Hanso to cast judgment from his idyllic bubble. Living in a variable paradise looking down on the city; a palace in the clouds far removed from the real world.

     She'd relaxed into a more casual pace by the time she reached Altador's outer walls. There was a dull ache that persisted in her legs, but it was no longer painful.

     Violet Stables. The Arena District.

     Unlike the day she'd left home, she knew exactly where her legs were taking her.

     The walk was long, providing her time alone with her thoughts. Time for her anger at Hanso's betrayal to fade, leaving only the bitter ache of an open wound. Time for Xandra's dry, condescending voice to echo tauntingly around her head. Time for her to realize how stupid it was to be walking through the city with only a hairstyle as a disguise after Xandra had correctly identified her.

     Maybe it didn't matter- if Hanso and Xandra were going to turn her in, she at least wanted to see Storm one last time before she was thrown in a dungeon, or... whatever it was they did with criminals. She wasn't actually sure what would happen to her, which was decidedly shameful in itself. In that regard, perhaps she was just as bad as Hanso.

     Her internal monologue was brought to a grinding halt when her destination appeared on the horizon like a mirage. Suddenly she was sprinting, desperate to grab hold it, to make it real before it was all snatched away from her again.

     "Storm?" she called, ruffling feathers as she sped past stalls, desperately searching for a glimpse of electric blue.

     When she saw it, it hit her with heart stopping force, bringing her skidding to a halt. An electric Alabriss was standing about two stalls in front of her; royal, radiant. Everything stood still as she approached.

     But it wasn't him. This was a young female Alabriss, lithe and elegant.

     Time sped up again as her heart plummeted, no longer suspended by threads of hope.

     'JUSTIFY IT', she read on the nameplate.

     Xandra had probably lied to her. She was just too blinded by her own stubbornness and desperation to see it until now.

     Her ear twitched at the sound of someone else entering the stable, prompting her to turn and leave in the opposite direction; her better judgement finally prevailing, telling her it was best to act casual and avoid eye contact.

     It was a fine plan until an Alabriss whinnied behind her and she instinctively whipped around, only to balk in disbelief.

     It couldn't be him. It felt like a trick; more wishful thinking, more denial.

     "Storm?" she croaked weakly.

     As much as her brain was refusing to let her believe it, he was standing right there; sunlight pouring through the open door and casting a halo around him.

     "You know him?"

     The voice was too soft to be as devastate her in the way she thought it should have. It was just grounding enough to satisfy the irrational defence mechanism barring her from fully embracing the reality that Storm was safe and alive.

     “Yeah,” she said guardedly, taking a hesitant step towards the stranger holding Storm’s lead rope. It was a small pink Wocky, choppy brown hair falling just above her shoulders. “Is he yours?”

     "Yeah, I just got him!"

      Her happiness made Brynn's heart ache, like she was being forced from the darkness to stare directly at the sun.

     "How has he been?" Brynn asked, feeling cold and unnaturally calm.

     "I'm not really sure yet. His shoulder is hurt."

     "Hey." Something long dormant lit up inside Brynn, guiding her like a beacon; a reminder of what being a trainer meant to her. "Can you bring him back outside? I'll show you something."

     "Okay," she agreed, as Brynn walked past, beckoning for her to follow.

     In the sunlight Storm appeared almost ethereal to her, a beautiful ghost from her bygone childhood. A memory of what once was, and a friend forever bound to her.

     She ran her hand down his neck, emotion threatening to spill over the instant her fingers caressed his mangled shoulder, so familiar it was like an extension of her own body.

     "You can massage it to help loosen the tension, he likes that," she said, focusing on her words, his shoulder, anything but the tightness in her throat and the glassy sting in her eyes. "Start out gently, feel how tense he is and watch his reactions to make sure you’re not hurting him." She began palpating his shoulder, the familiar routine transporting her back to the early mornings spent outside his stall; a bittersweet reminder that her dream of greener pastures hadn’t come true.

     No more tears, no more hysteria. She’d embarrassed herself enough over the past week.

     “Here, you try,” she invited, taking a step back to switch places with the Wocky. “I’m called Brynn, by the way.”

     “Kali,” she said, beginning to rub circles into Storms shoulder.

     “Apply a bit more pressure,” Brynn encouraged.

     Kali nodded her movements and body language slowly becoming more confident. Brynn watched as Storm leaned into her touch, his eyes heavy and his lip twitching slightly. “Look,” she grinned, the ache in her heart temporarily subsiding. “That face means he’s happy.”

     “Oh,” Kali laughed, and Brynn felt acceptance embrace her. It was peaceful and poignant, like the lulling flow of a river washing away all of her frenzied anxiety and rage. She could not steal Storm from this girl. He was safe here. Her beloved friend had someone else who would care for him, give him a life free from the confines of the tiny box that long been their entire world.

     “Promise you’ll take care of him,” she whispered, running her thumb over a small mark under his eye; a scar sustained before his first racing season, when they were both young and unbroken and the path ahead seemed to glow with possibility.

     “I promise, you can trust me,” Kali vowed earnestly, and Brynn believed her.

     “He’s a very special Alabriss, he’ll be good to you too.”

     “Thanks. I’m not really interested in racing or anything, so I don’t mind that he’s lame. And my parents just wanted me to have one that was safe, so I think he’s perfect.”

     “Yes, he is,” Brynn agreed, pride warming her heart. “I should show you how to stretch his legs as well.”

     Out of all the ways their story could have ended, this outcome would at least allow her wake up every morning knowing that her broken dream had still come true and imagine he was running free in the open fields she’d once envisioned for them together.

     Sometimes the greatest kindness was knowing when to say goodbye.

     To be continued…